


Wedding Bells

by silverivy13



Category: South Park
Genre: Kyle's POV, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Short One Shot, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverivy13/pseuds/silverivy13
Summary: "I wanted him to be happy. I just wished he could be happy with me."





	

Wednesday had decided to be a beautiful day. How ironic for me. As I strode down the street, the stuffy black shoes I always wore for work clacking against the pavement, a glimmer of light caught my eye and I glanced down to see the sun reflecting off the screen of my phone, shining into my eyes and temporarily blinding me. Typical Irish problems. Anyway, said sun was high in the sky, shining down from that brilliant blue sea with the occasional fluffy white cloud leaping out of it, when my phone buzzed with the familiar ringtone that could only belong to Stan. I shaded my eyes so that I could read the screen.

5:31 PM: Can you meet me at Starks Pond? Around 9ish? I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you.

Of course he did. When did he ever not need to talk. Don’t get me wrong, childhood friends are great, but they can be so irritating sometimes.

5:33 PM: Sure. I’ll be there :)

When my phone buzzed again, I didn’t bother looking at it. What was the point when I already knew what he was going to say? It would probably go something like ‘Thanks! You’re the best, dude!’ and I would respond with ‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’ but in reality, I wouldn’t be thinking anything like that. I’d be upset and irritated- but that wasn’t his fault. After all, it wasn’t like I said anything about why I felt like that.

A car whizzing by snapped me out of my thoughts as it hurtled past at 60 mph. I quickly looked around, making sure no one had seen me staring off into space randomly. When I got a few weird glances, I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I resumed walking down the sidewalk, praying they’d forget it. The clock on the bank across the street began to chime. 1 PM. Crap. I was officially late and I knew my boss would have my hide for it. Again. I gathered my things and rushed down the street.

As I thought, I got a lecture, but even though I should’ve paid attention to my boss, I just couldn’t focus. I was too distracted by that text. By this point, after over 20 long years of friendship, I was able to predict Stan’s thought process. He worried over anything and everything, and he always was the first one to say something if something didn’t seem right, and he had always been the leader, so he’d always have to watch out for the others. Always, always, always. I tried to tell myself that it was all fine, that there was no way he wasn’t worried about this. After all, marriage is a big deal, no matter how old you are, and we certainly weren’t getting any younger. But this was different. There was something about the way he asked me to meet, something about the way he texted those few words that threw me off. Maybe it was that he used proper punctuation this time. Maybe it was because there were no stupid acronyms that he would never shy away from using if he was his normal self. Maybe it was just because I knew him too well. Either way, the only thing I could think about that evening was him‒not that that was any different than normal.

I got to the park about a quarter before 9. The sun had begun to set, casting its lilting rays over the rows of trees before me. It was a typical July evening: hot, sticky, and downright depressing. I longed for the days that were long past me, the days filled with summer fun, hanging out with friends, beachside excursions, parties that lasted late into the night. Summers with him. However, as a member of the working class, summer vacation was no longer an option; I had far too much to do in far too little time, with no breaks or vacations in sight. And even if there was one coming up, Stan wouldn’t be here, so what was the point? Plopping heavily onto one of the stone benches, I shook my head. This was not the time to be negative, not when he would be here any minute.

“Hey!” A voice called out to me and I glanced up. Sure enough, there he was, trotting over to me at a brisk pace, his soft ebony hair flopping around his face with every step, blue eyes gleaming in the fading light of day. That perfectly tanned skin stood out against the crisp white buttondown he wore, a deep navy blue tie accentuating those eyes of his. He looked perfect (not that that was anything new). Falling down beside me, he turned, two rows of white teeth peeking out between thin lips pulled back into that awkward, embarrassed grin he always wore when he addressed me for being late.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice husky and out of breath. “Work ran later than I expected. The boss is giving me a ton of work now. Guess he’s kinda mad that his best worker is leaving soon, so he’s pushing everything he can onto me, and, well, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” I replied, even though I didn’t.

“So anyways, thanks for meeting me kinda randomly like this,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” I answered again. “I’m used to this by now.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m always relying on you.” When his voice trailed off, I sighed, knowing I was going to have to take the lead once again.

“So?” I said, turning to look at him.

“So what?” He answered me.

“So, what’s so urgent it couldn’t wait? We’ll see each other at the ceremony this weekend,” I prompted, waiting for him to answer.

He opened his mouth to say something before shutting it. As he looked down at his feet, I could see a whirlwind of emotions parading through his head, storming those blue eyes of his with rain clouds: worry, fear, anger, sadness, not a single happy, positive one. I had predicted it from the very beginning, and I had been proven right: yes, something was definitely wrong, but before I could prompt him to spit it out, he looked up suddenly.

“If you don’t want me to marry Wendy, I won’t.” His words were so fast I almost didn’t hear them, and for a second, I thought I had imagined him saying them. His intense gaze, however, told me that that was not the case. 

Instead of answering, I stared at him for a long, long time, with nothing and everything swirling around in my mind. All that I could manage to utter was a quiet “...what?”, my voice hoarse, scratching against the back of my throat.

“I mean,” he muttered to me quietly. “If you disapprove then… then I’ll break it off. For good.”

“But why would you do that?!” I exclaimed in a tone that sounded too harsh, even for me. I softened it a bit as I clarified. “Don’t you love her?”

“I do,” he answered immediately. “I really do! But… You’re my best friend. You’ve seen all the relationships I’ve ever had before and you’ll see all the ones I might have in the future.” I winced a little at those words as he continued. “You know as well as I do, or maybe even better, whether this is right choice or not. As much as I love Wendy, I can’t help remembering what it was like throughout school, and how we kept breaking up and getting back together. It’s making me a little nervous, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret later, so if there’s something you know, some reason why we shouldn’t get married, then I want you to tell me, Kyle.”

All I could think was how much I wanted to say yes, that there was a reason that he shouldn’t marry her, that he should break up and never try to marry anyone else in his entire life unless it was me. I wanted to tell him how perfect I was for him, and how much better I knew I was. Who was the one who had been there for him every time Wendy broke his heart? Who was the one who had always sided with him when it counted no matter what? Who was the one who was always there, no matter what time it was, no matter where I or he was, no matter what? Me. It had always been me.

However, before I could open my mouth, something stopped me; a tiny voice in my brain telling me not to. And then I remembered who I was to him: a best friend. I was someone who was always there for him. I was someone who listened no matter what it was about and no matter how long it took. I was someone who could talk about absolutely nothing and everything together with him. I was someone he could call when he was bored. I was not someone he could love- not any more than that of siblings.

And after the longest time, I answered him.

“Why would you ask me?” I said, forcing myself to laugh just a little. “It’s not up to me who you marry, it’s up to you. If you think Wendy’s really the one, then do it. Really Stan, all I care about is your happiness.” And that was true. I wanted him to be happy. I just wished he could be happy with me.

“You really think it’ll be okay? That she’s, y’know… the one?” He asked me.

“Do you?” I asked back. He turned away, and even though it had gotten dark, I could still see the shadows on his face stretching into a soft smile, the kind of smile someone makes when they’re thinking about the person they love, you know, the one where their mouth is open just barely, where the lips are pulled back far, but not too far, where it reaches all the way to their eyes, which light up everytime someone mentions that person’s name. I always loved that smile on him.

“Yeah,” he replied. “She’s perfect.”

“Then there’s your answer.” I told him, and I knew that it really was as simple as that. It didn’t matter what I wanted, and I had needed to face that cold, hard truth many times in my life already. The only difference was that this one was a bit more permanent.

““It means a lot to me that you approve of this” he told me as he stood, pulling his arms above his head to stretch. “So thank you. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you, man.”

“It’s no problem,” I responded. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“And I’ll probably always need you to be,” he answered, laughing as he waved his hand in farewell before beginning to walk down the dimly lit park path. “I’ll see you Sunday, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you then.” I watched Stan go, watched until I could no longer make out his back from all the other dark shapes in the distance, and then I watched some more. A part of me thought he’d come running back, saying the whole marriage thing was a joke, that he didn’t want anyone but me. But the second part of me said there was no way that would happen.

It’s no surprise that the second part of me was right.


End file.
